Found an old journal entry.

I haven’t been on here for a good while. Maybe I’ll do it more frequently from now on- maybe not. No promises. I want this to be a space free from shoulds and have to-s.

I was just looking through some of my old phone notes (really searching for old songs in progress) when I found this raw little journal entry, and it brought me back.

I remember laying in bed, having just woken up, scrolling my phone. Seems like that’s the universal bad habit we are all trying to kick. I have ways I successfully avoid doing that now (most of the time anyway) but it is strange how quickly force feeding ourselves with the ups and downs of other people’s lives becomes the essential thing we do first thing in morning. How much happier we would be if we just quit it and lived the life that is actually right in front of us. Anyway. Rant done.

I was laying there, scrolling, looking, and then, comparing. As I’d done so, so many times in the past. I’ll have you know that I’ve come a very long way when it comes to loving and accepting myself, but I have my moments too. Less and less, which I am so grateful for, but sometimes, they still come. Thankfully now, I’ve better learned to recognize which thoughts to open the door for and which to simply let knock until they go away. I really have grown, even if it doesn’t always feel that way.

(If you ever feel like your life is at a stand still or like you’re not developing or growing- take a moment and go look through your old photos or journal entries. Or even essays. You’ll leave encouraged, I promise. Sometimes all you need is a bit of a birds eye view of your own life.)

This particular morning though, the particularly cruel ones came knocking and, before I had time to stop myself from walking the familiar path towards the front door, I had let them all in. And they were wreaking havoc on my self-image, leaving my home messy and with way more to clean up than I felt capable of handling.

This is what I wrote at that moment, more as a cry for help than anything else. I only hope that you through it will hear someone different knocking on that door of yours, someone much more loving, much more kind. I hope that it will provide you with the bravery you need to start questioning the downgrading things you’ve maybe always thought of yourself. I hope that you will, by listening to the voice of love, learn to finally treat yourself with the kindness you deserve.

Because you do. You deserve all the kindness in the world.

So allow yourself to receive it.

May 20th, 2018

I did it again.

I do love myself and I was happy with all of it until I started looking outside of me.

Somehow, I thought it was okay to re-enter this sick competition that I’ve pulled myself out of so many times. Somehow I thought it was okay to look at what you made and tell you that you could have done it better. That what you did wasn’t enough. That you could have made me look more like her. Somehow thought without really thinking.

I’m sorry. Remind me again how you see me. What it is you so deeply love. Why you are fully satisfied looked at me, your finished work of art, and why you still say “it is very good.” Why you didn’t want to change a thing.

There was no judgement in your eyes (even if I had just judged you.) Only a reckless love and a deep compassion.

I saw you reaching out your hand and before I even had time to think about pulling away I felt your fingertips touch my cheek.

So gently, tracing the side of my face.

So slowly, as if you were carefully leaving on me your imprint. Marking me as a target for affection. Imparting to me your view of what I would call imperfection.

There were no words
and no words were needed.
Your touch was
-and will forever be-




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